


Best Home

by Kira7



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: (better through the years), Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Alternative Universe - Thief and Librarian, Aziraphale and Crowley Met Before The Fall (Good Omens), Aziraphale and Crowley Through The Ages (Good Omens), Crowley Was Raphael Before Falling (Good Omens), Crowley doesn't remember his life before the fall, Doppelganger, First Meeting, Friends to Lovers, Human AU, Loss of Identity, M/M, Memory Loss, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Slow To Update, Sometimes Crowley does petty thefts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:13:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24224119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kira7/pseuds/Kira7
Summary: Or what was the beginning, not really the beginning of humanity, as many of you might imagine. It's simply the story of how two such different children became friends.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Raphael (Good Omens)
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It all began in a garden, during a costume party

It started, as it would've ended, with a garden.  
Specifically, it was a park, where a costume party was taking place and a boy, dressed as a knight, had remained on the sidelines to observe. But he was joined by another child after he made a prank.

"Well, that was quite fun," he began, drawing the knight's attention.

The knight boy smiled awkwardly, "Sorry, what?"

"I said that was quite fun."

"Oh. Who are you?," asked the child.

"I'm a star, can't you see it?," the other boy replied, turning on himself to show his costume, a yellow dress with a yellow crown that surrounded his red head, "And you?"  
The first child twisted his chubby fingers, looking away.

"My dad wanted me to be a knight."  
The boy looked at him curiously, studying his tinfoil helmet, his cape which was nothing more than the white sheet of a cradle, but an important detail was missing in that costume.

"And where is your sword?"  
Here was the painful part, which made the child blush and bow his head.

"I gave it away," he whispered biting his tongue. That made the star-child screamed.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?"

"I gave it AWAY. I know, a knight is no one without his sword, but there was that kid who wanted it so much, he had to defeat the dragon, but he had no weapons, so I--"  
The boy was stopped by the laughter of the other.

"You're funny!," he said, then turned serious and declared with his arms on his hips, "I like you."  
The boy looked at him, opening his mouth in a small O, nobody had ever been so friendly to him, they told him he was weird, that he was different, they made fun of him, or they told him in a low voice, asking to keep the secret... Instead this boy had expressed his appreciation without hiding.

"Are-- Are you sure?"

The boy in the star costume looked at him in amazement, "Of course I am!"  
The baby-knight smiled, lowering his gaze again, his eyes filled with tears.

"I'm Raphael. And you?"

"Huh?"  
The star bent over, frowning, chanting the words.

"What's. Your. Name."

"Oh," the knight reached out, "My name is Aziraphale. Nice to meet you."

"Do you want to play?"  


"At what?"

"How about looking for my other sisters?"

"Do you have brothers too?"

The red-haired boy denied with his head, "There are other stars around here, my brothers and sisters, who have fallen from the sky. Come on, come and look for them with me!"  
Aziraphale was about to join the game, but a thunder rumbled and the blonde kid grabbed the red boy's hand to take him somewhere in that garden where they could shelter from the impending rain. The two found a tube large enough to fix only one of them, and Aziraphale pushed Raphael inside.

"What about you?"

"Don't worry, my costume doesn't get damaged by the rain."  
Raphael was speechless, grabbed his knees and waited patiently for the rain to end.

 _Best home_ , or what was the beginning, not really the beginning of humanity, as many of you might imagine. It's simply the story of how two such different children became friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to scream with me, you can find me on [ **Tumblr** ](https://kira-7.tumblr.com) or [ **Twitter** ](https://mobile.twitter.com/kira7_13) 😄


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale is aged, and meets a child of his age.

It rained that day in London; the inhabitants had became so accustomed to the weather that they never left the house without an umbrella, as if their entire life depended on a simple object.  
Among all those umbrellas that marched on the sidewalks of Soho, however, there was someone who walked alone without having an umbrella, so as to attract the attention of other people, but this person, a child, cared little about others' opinions, or at least that was what he wanted to believe. Anthony J. Crowley, or simply Crowley, as he wanted others to call him, tried to get as far away as possible from the place where he had done something to say the least legally, moreover the rain wasn't ideal to go unnoticed, so he preferred to go into a bookshop, the guy who was probably chasing him would never have thought of entering such a place.  
And in fact it wouldn't have done them wrong, Crowley thought looking around, noticing many books and parchments ordered on the numerous shelves, the warm and soft lights made the atmosphere welcoming, and the boy started wandering, looking for a little place to hide, the street life wasn't suitable for him, he thought as soon as he sat on a couch, crossing his legs and hiding behind its back, peeking occasionally to see if someone entered.

"Who are you, what are you doing here?," asked a voice behind Crowley.  
The boy turned and saw another boy, more or less the same age as he was, looking at him suspiciously with a book close to his chest.

"Erm... I'm sheltering from the rain."

The boy turned to look out the door, then turned his attention back to Crowley as he adjusted a blond curl that had strayed from the others, "I can assure you that the rain doesn't get this far."  
Crowley felt his cheeks burned and had to adjust his sunglasses to mask the embarrassment that was overwhelming him.

The boy studied him a little before giving him a kind offering, "You can stay here as long as you want, but my father won't like you getting his couch dirty."

"And you?," Crowley asked in reply, partly because he didn't like the idea of such a strict parent and partly because he was comfortable in that position.  
The blond boy looked around for a few frightened seconds, as if at any moment a monstrous creature should jump out and wait for nothing more than to be able to devour the poor boy in one bite.

"I don't like it," he began to answer in a low voice, covering his mouth so as not to be caught. "I'd like to change it one day."  
Well, good to know, Crowley thought, then he saw that boy sitting next to him, the couch was big enough for both of them; he took a few more looks at the front door, but then his attention was brought back to the boy.

"Are you waiting for someone?"

"Not really," he replied as he observed the space that divided him from the blond guy, rubbing the fingers of one hand, he didn't know whether to go on with the speech or to drop everything in a sort of mutism.

"It seemed to me that you were waiting for someone -- uhm..." he had to stop, not knowing what the other boy's name was.

"Crowley," he said without being able to repress a grin on seeing the other's mouth open in response.

"Just Crowley?"

"Actually, I'm Anthony J. Crowley, but it's Crowley."

The other boy nodded, while giving a small smile to the other boy, "And Crowley will be, then."  
Crowley felt the need to put a hand behind the back of his neck and to look down while adjusting his sunglasses, that smile was too much for him, he wasn't sure he deserved it, but then he changed his attitude, relaxing his shoulders -- even if he didn't remember about having stiffened them, and went back to swaggering, as he thought smart people would.

"You have a name too, am I right?"

The boy took on a surprised expression, "Didn't I tell you?," he asked, receiving a negative nod from Crowley.

"Where are my manners?," he questioned rhetorically, rolling his eyes, but Crowley had been hypnotized by a blond tuft that floated rebelliously on that boy's head, "My name is Aziraphale."

That name had the effect of driving Crowley's attention, who returned to look at Aziraphale, "A-zira... Phale?"

The blonde nodded, wiggling proudly on his place, he was about to explain what he had discovered about his name, its meaning, its etymology, everything, but he had to stop seeing Crowley's pale face, "Are you feeling well?"

Indeed, the ginger-haired boy got to his feet, "Well, magnificently well, yes."

Too bad it seemed the opposite to Aziraphale, but he didn't give voice to his thoughts, and he preferred to watch the other boy who was adjusting his sunglasses again and peered out at one of the windows, "Well, now I have to go."

"What? Already? But... But it's still raining!"  
Crowley didn't listen to him, he strode through the bookshop and was about to open the door to go out, when a hand landed on his shoulder, making him turn.

"Here," Aziraphale said, holding out an umbrella, "This will come in handy."

Crowley was perplexed, it didn't happen every day that someone would give him something without him having to borrow it, "I'll give it back to you," escaped from his mouth, without even realizing it.

In response, Aziraphale snorted amused and brushed the thought away with one hand, "Don't worry. Make a good return at your home."

"Yes, home... Sure. Bye."  
The bookshop's door closed, and Aziraphale could watch that red-haired boy walk away covered by the umbrella he had given to Crowley, it was his favorite, tartan, beige, with light blue and white stripes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to scream with me, you can find me on [ **Tumblr** ](https://kira-7.tumblr.com) or [ **Twitter** ](https://mobile.twitter.com/kira7_13) 😄


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both Aziraphale and Crowley age up, and sometimes they continue to meet. Until one day, Aziraphale has some news.

The bell attached to the bookshop's entrance jingled, however not because someone had entered, but had left: a twenty-year-old adjusted the raincoat he was wearing and began to walk towards his favorite pastry shop, the owner indeed had, since a week, started to produce a new titbit, and the boy, as a person with a penchant for delicious foods, had made up his mind to go and taste it, he cared little about the sermons of his father and brothers. Don't get him wrong, the boy, whose name was Aziraphale, respected family rules, he did his homework (even though he had started a heated discussion with the English literature teacher several times, only because the woman couldn't understand the beauty of Wilde's writings), he never returned after curfew (he actually preferred holing up in his father's library, and since Aziraphale's family owned the apartment above it, it wasn't difficult to return before curfew time struck), he went every Sunday at mass (although a very small part of his mind was convinced that God didn't stop loving his children just because they were different), he had attended the saber courses that his father had made him follow (and here too there were perplexities in the young man's mind, since he didn't see himself as suitable for sports like his brothers, who continued to follow courses), in short, he could be considered a model for his peers, but when it came to not lingering too long on food and not being tempted too much by the cream's scent, Aziraphale couldn't resist and poured his thoughts on a nice slice of angel cake and he felt happy, it was one of the moments more serene than he could live, together with books, which helped him to travel and explore worlds, people, feelings.  
A little tear mixed with the tea and Aziraphale wiped his wet cheek, maybe a walk in the park would help him, so he paid and left the pastry shop, but once he was out it was the rain that greeted him, and the boy thought it would be better to wait for it to finish than to wet his clothes, he cared for his coat, when a voice caught his attention.

"You will become a decrepit old man by dint of waiting," Aziraphale turned to his left and saw a boy of his own age with red hair in a low ponytail wearing sunglasses, despite the bad weather.

"Hi Crawly," he tried to pronounce the name well.

""s Crowley."  
The cold tone and thin line of his mouth didn't seem like a good sign to Aziraphale to continue the conversation, but he couldn't hold back a small smile and remain silent, "Crowley, right... I'm always wrong... To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you?," he asked, lately he hadn't seen the boy around.

The other one shrugged, "I was passing by," he lowered his head and his glasses fell slightly on his nose, "I haven't been around for a long time."

Aziraphale's smile widened further, "I was going to the park, do you want to come with me?"

"With this rain?," Crowley turned in his direction and raised a skeptical eyebrow, "Not a fan of bad weather."

"It's a shame you were born in London then."

His laughter didn't reach the other boy, who took advantage of the moment of the awkward silence that had arisen to put his glasses back in place, so Aziraphale began to torture his hands and look left and right, looking for a topic to talk about, but his mind was completely blank.

"I read that book you recommended," Crowley began a speech, then he put one hand into his trouser pocket, pretending not to notice the glimmer in the other boy's eyes.

"Did you like it?"  
Although they didn't see each other often, from time to time Crowley happened to take a tour into Aziraphale's father bookshop, and the latter took the opportunity to talk about books Aziraphale had read and loved, and from time to time he also happened to recommend them to Crowley, who much preferred a nice movie to a cover and a few of pages.

"Alcohol and a college student unaware of being bisexual, I'd say it wasn't bad."

Crowley's sly grin made Aziraphale rolled his eyes, in an act of mock desperation, "It isn't written anywhere that Charles was in love with Sebastian, and that is the only thing you liked?"

"Well, Jeremy Irons was as acceptable as Charles."

"Have you seen the tv series?!," the blond asked scandalized, the melancholy of a few minutes earlier had totally disappeared.

"Only after reading the book, I swear on my most innocent heart."

"And where would you have seen it?"

"On a pirate site, of course."

"Crowley... Wouldn't that be, how to say, illegal?"

"Probably, but I created an account in Hastur's name, they will never suspect me."

Aziraphale had to look back at the street not to show the smile that kept widening every second more, "How about talking about it in the bookshop?"

Crowley swallowed hard, but tried to pretend nothing happened, "A little saint like you is inviting a hoodlum like me to his house? Your father will be very proud."

"My father won't notice, if only this rain stopped..."

The distressed sigh and the gaze on the ground shook Crowley's heart, who waited a few more seconds and then reached out and opened an umbrella with a tartan color, who caught the blond's gaze, "Should I give you a lift?"  
As soon as he saw his old umbrella, Aziraphale opened his eyes wide, to turn back to Crowley, this one couldn't contain a sly smile, while his cheekbones began to turn pink, a contraindication for having gone out in the middle of January with only a jacket leather and a cotton T-shirt, so he would answer if anyone asked him.

"Very gladly," Aziraphale laughed, taking the other boy by the arm and guiding him to the bookshop, as Crowley was intent on either staring at those two hands clutching his arm or glimpsing where he was putting his feet, just so as not to trip.

* * *

"Trust me, I would have preferred to be invisible."  
Crowley's coarse laugh spread around the room, causing accusing looks that made Aziraphale even more embarrassed, so much so that the boy did everything to silence his friend, first catching him then calling him and in the end he was forced to shut his mouth with both hands, almost immediately obtaining the result he wanted: Crowley fell silent and stared at the concentrated face of the other, hoping with all his being that no one heard the accelerated beat of his heart, much louder than his previous laugh.

"I'm sorry, dear, but it was necessary," very calmly, Aziraphale moved away, touching the boy's face with such ease and affection that Crowley had to make up his mind, remember who he was and where he came from, which was a bit difficult given his delicate condition.

"Ngk-ss no problem," he composed himself a little and ran a hand over his face, feeling his cheeks warm, damn how hot it felt in there, and he loved heated rooms.

Aziraphale's blue eyes stared at him for a few seconds as if he were a specimen of an exotic animal, and he went down the back, crossing his arms in front of his chest, and shifted his gaze to a man who was leafing through a book, "We're not in a library, I can make as much noise as I want!," he screamed the sentence's last part, frightening the man who nearly dropped the book, the perfect effect Crowley wanted and he chuckled at what had happened, while Aziraphale tried to hold back the urge to get up and tell that man not to mistreat a book, however the thought of not being the owner of the bookshop made him swallow the annoyance he felt, how could his father let such beautiful books be sold by hands that probably would have crumpled them, to eyes that would not have grasped the beauty of the words contained in them, to mouths that would speak ill of the authors, how could such a disaster happen?

"The point is," Crowley resumed speaking as he turned back to Aziraphale, now that his cheeks had returned to a normal color, "You can't expect to study all Shakespeare, or to do any further study on Hamlet. It's not great, ri--"

"Don't you like it?!" Aziraphale raised his voice as he interrupted Crowley, this time he was regardless to the probable customers' annoyed looks, Hamlet was certainly more important than some people who had mistaken the bookshop for a library.

Crowley shrugged casually and leaned his cheek back to watch Aziraphale, "It's a tragedy, literally! Comedies are arguably better."  
Aziraphale's face lit up, he knew a new thing about who he could consider between an acquaintance and a friend; over time, in fact, he had learned a few things about Crowley, he wasn't a fan of food, he used to borrow other people's things (which he would never return back), he loved vintage cars, he hated a boy older than them, Hastur, he had lost his parents when he was very young and because of this he had spent his childhood and adolescence in a foster home, since no relative had come to take care of him, he loved music, among all artists, however, Queen occupied first place in his heart... Curious, he was completely different from Aziraphale, but knowing that Crowley had a penchant for Shakespeare's plays made him feel somehow similar to the other guy.

"Then you've surely read _A Midsummer Night's Dream_."

The red-haired boy's hand made vague gestures, "A few pages... Mph... Yeah."

Aziraphale snorted in amusement and rolled his eyes, "You saw the movie," he declared, looking back at how Crowley waved in his place.

"I'll give you two reasons: Anna Friel and Dominic West, they're perfect for Ermia and Lysander."

"Movies usually ruin a good book."

"But they can also create wonderful things, books or not, _Golden Girls_ for example, _The Nanny_ , _Friends_..."

"You're listing TV series."

"It doesn't matter, they're still great."

"I don't like television."

"With your father who only wants you to watch _The Sound of Music_ , I would say I hate television too."

"It's not what you think."

"No? And what would it be like?"

Aziraphale had just opened his mouth when a woman approached them, "Excuse me," she called their attention and the two turned in her direction to know what she wanted, "There's no one at the cashier. Where is the owner?"

Aziraphale pursed his lips in a friendly smile that didn't feel truthful, "My dad should be here any minute, but that book isn't for someone like you," Crowley immediately turned towards Aziraphale, both of his eyebrows could touch the hairline, "You might find much more interesting _Fifty Shades of Grey_ , someone sells it two blocks from here."

"But I'm interested in this one."

"I'm sure that the collection of tales about the rape of the Sabines prefers another owner."

The woman, keeping a scandalized and offended expression, set down the book in a bad manner and left, promising that she would never enter in that bookshop again, causing Aziraphale a restrained chuckle, satisfied with the result... Maybe it could be a good idea for the future? Drive out the likely buyers with many other proposals... If the bookshop had become his, how many improvements he would have brought.

"Luckily your father is the owner, or you'd bankrupt this place," Crowley seemed to read his mind, and the blond laughed.

"Don't worry, it won't happen."  
Crowley got up to stretch, Aziraphale's eyes couldn't break away from the other boy's buttocks tight in a pair of skinny jeans.

"And how are you going to do that?," Crowley asked, putting his hands on his hips then he turned, catching his friend out, or at least Aziraphale believed that, luckily Crowley made no notes.

After moving his gaze to a corner of the bookcase as soon as possible, Aziraphale answered, "I'll find a way," he gave him an innocent smile, even if it hid a mischief that made Crowley shivered, so much so that the young man put a hand behind his neck and he bowed his head, not hiding a shy smile that creased his lips.

"Damn, with that angel face you could fuck anyone."

At that confession uttered in a whisper and an unusual, almost sweet, tone Aziraphale blushed and felt his heart begin to beat rapidly, "What?"

"Nothing!"

Crowley adjusted his glasses and strode around the bookcase, followed by the other, "Where are you going?"

"I-I must go," Aziraphale received in reply, he wasn't deigned of a glance, "The others will be waiting for me."

Aziraphale lowered the hand he had extended to take Crowley's jacket and intertwined his fingers in an inextricable tangle, "Will we meet again?," he asked with hope in his voice.

Crowley stiffened his shoulders and turned slightly, "Why not?"

"My father wants I travel around the continent to study."  
The news brought a chill in the room, and Crowley turned definitively towards Aziraphale, for the first time he took off his glasses, and the blond could finally see his friend's eyes.

"Are you serious?"  
Aziraphale was enchanted staring into those worried, troubled, panicked eyes.

"Aziraphale, are you fucking serious?"  
Crowley's alarmed tone brought Aziraphale back to reality, and he lowered his eyes, sorry for such news, but he was forced to nod, "I should leave in a month."

"To where?"  
"I don't know the destination yet."

"Oppose."

Aziraphale looked back at him, "How?"

"Say you don't want to, that you prefer to stay here in London, that you have friends you don't want to leave."  
Although what Crowley said was true, Aziraphale bowed his head and weakly denied, he couldn't do it, he didn't want to bring such pain to his parent.

"I'm sorry."

Crowley took a deep breath, closed his eyes and then spoke again, trying to be optimistic, "Maybe you'll go to Paris, and finally have a chance to eat a crepe."

The possibility, added with the evidence that Crowley also remembered the things they told during their meetings, made the blond boy smile, even though his vision was slightly blurred at the corners and his lower lip was shaken by slight tremors, "Never thought of this possibility," he confessed, then bursting into laughter that reached Crowley.

"See? What good are friends if not to show you the bright side of the matter?"  
That said, the laughter faded as if it had never existed, and the two looked into each other's eyes without saying a word.

"I'll come to greet you."

"I'm counting on it."  
The two boys greeted each other like this, with the promise to see each other again the next day; at the very thought, their hearts exulted with joy in the hope of being able to see again, to find a way, any one, to keep in touch despite the distance, Crowley would have proposed the cell phone or the social media, while Aziraphale would have surely opted for a classic letter, like one of those sent in the eighteenth or nineteenth century, they would find a way, surely... It was enough that Crowley went to greet Aziraphale on the day of departure.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! ^^ See you soon!  
> If you want to scream with me, you can find me on [ **Tumblr** ](https://kira-7.tumblr.com) or [ **Twitter** ](https://mobile.twitter.com/kira7_13) 😄


End file.
